A Willingness To Kill
by Volaiel
Summary: Where Harry decides that sometimes murder is the best solution.


Harry Potter, nine years old, was sweeping the floor of the kitchen. It was a hot, muggy day and the air conditioner was running full blast. Dudley was out with his fledgling gang, thankfully, and so not here to make Harry's life miserable. However, his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had decided to stay inside to avoid the heat and were, at present, watching a cop show of some sort. Harry vaguely recognized it as one that they never turned on around Dudley. It was too 'mature' for their precious son. Petunia was afraid it would scar his poor, young mind. They had no such concerns about Harry, who was little more than their slave and was not supposed to be paying any attention to the show in the first place.

However, the young boy found the show far more interesting than sweeping wooden floors, and so made a point of being quiet enough to follow most of what was being said. He also crept into the room, unnoticed, for some of the noisier action scenes.

This was not an unusual occurrence, and he would likely have dinner withheld for his slow work later, but he had a feeling that the meal would be withheld regardless. That was why he tended to 'steal' food. He fought the urge to snort whenever they accused him of that 'horrendus' crime. From his understanding, as a member of the family, he had as much right to it as any of them. They also had no way to trace what he did steal. As Harry had learned long ago, slices of bread or other measurable things would be noticed. However, other things would not because his Aunt never took the time to check. Granola bars could be taken occasionally - Dudley was free to eat them whenever he wanted, so as long as Harry was not caught, it was assumed Dudley had eaten them. Cereal could not be counted piece by piece, and so would not be noticed missing. The same was true of small portions of pre-prepared salad and water from the sink. Unfortunately, his Aunt always noticed fruit missing, so he only got that when he filched it from the children at school who tended to throw "nasty red apples" away. So, in the end, he ate barely enough to avoid serious malnutrition, but not enough to keep his baby fat.

As such, Harry snuck into the kitchen during the show and filched some cereal and lettuce. As he chewed frantically, he listened to the TV. This particular show was interesting because one of the characters was a lot like him; she was always being accused of things she did not do. Her boyfriend hit her like Dudley hit him, but had died. She was not upset, so the cops thought she did it.

As Harry returned the food to where he had removed it from, the a new twist was revealed: the killer was her best friend! Harry darted silently into the hallway and listened to the end of the episode. The girl confronted her friend and asked why she did it. The answer was simple: "I wanted him to go away. I wanted him to stop hurting you. The police didn't help. Your parents didn't help. They just let you get hurt. It was the only way I could see for you to be happy again, Margaret. So I made it so he could never hurt anyone again."

As the show wound down, the woman was carted off to prison, and one of the cops commented that they wished they had never found the culprit. He would like to think he could have done the same for his friends. The other said that was the law, and leave it to the courts. The woman promised to wait for her friend to get out of prison.

A very young Harry Potter stood in the hallway, frozen. "He could never hurt anyone again," he murmured. His Aunt's head snapped around and she glared at him. Then the shrieking began.

" _Freak!_ What do you think you're doing!? Get back to work, you useless freak! And no dinner for you tonight!" she shrieked.

Vernon joined in with a light cuff about the head and purple-faced shouting. They might not usually hit hard enough to bruise, like Dudley, but it still hurt. Harry felt the beginnings of something stir inside him, and remembered the dead man. _'Stop them from hurting me ever again…'_

—

Over the next few months, Harry found himself remembering that show with increasing frequency. He also found himself wondering if orphanages were really that bad. That was the week another freak accident happened in his vicinity and a plate fell too slowly after he dropped it by mistake.

Vernon cuffed him about the head so hard his ears rang and all but threw him into his cupboard. He was locked in and told he would have no food for the next three days.

Harry decided he would very much like to learn about orphanages firsthand. At least, if they only fed the orphans once or twice a day, made them work like slaves, beat them, and stuck them in castoffs, he would no longer be the only one in that situation. He had discovered an untraceable method of killing, he believed.

That night, Harry had never been more glad that he had long since learned the "credit card trick," as Dudley's gang called it. He snuck out at around 1am, ate a late dinner, and went back to his cupboard. He promptly pulled out one of the substances with a poison control sticker, walked to the coffee machine, and poured some into the area water went into. It wasn't much, unfortunately, because he was afraid that more would be noticed, but he didn't want his relatives to notice. He returned the cleaner to its place.

The next day, Harry listened through the door as his Aunt and Uncle commented that the coffee seemed off. However, it sounded like they drank a bit. Then his Aunt began throwing up, and his Uncle followed suit. They called the police and asked for an ambulance. They said they were both getting sick and it seemed like something was in their coffee.

Unfortunately, they both came back that night. They did not listen to Harry's weak protestations that he had been locked up and could not have done it (he had removed the tape), and he got the third true beating of his life from his Uncle.

To be fair, he really had tried to kill the bastard.

After that, Harry continued to make plans for his family's demise. However, he was too afraid to execute them. Failure was not an option, but he could not succeed if he did not try. He did not try. He hated himself for it, in a way, because it showed their power over him. However, he was now as afraid of trying to kill them as he was of getting decent marks at school or hitting back when Dudley hit him.

—

Harry was extremely happy when he learned about magic. There was no way for muggles to trace it. He could almost certainly kill his family with it. Unfortunately, he still got squeamish at the thought of reading his schoolbooks, and Hagrid prevented him from buying anything actually useful aside from his wand. Even the book on curses had been returned! For goodness sake, he had _piles_ of gold, and the man had no right whatsoever to tell him how to spend the mere handful he had on hand. He was not going to be beggared by the price of a mere book!

However, with the ease of long practice, Harry forced down the dully simmering fury that always seemed to be present. Hagrid was just dumb. He knew that within minutes of meeting him. The man was kindhearted and stupid, and probably did not have the brains to put two and two together and realize that Harry could afford some small things for himself. Not to mention that Hagrid had bought his first-ever birthday present and made his first cake. Personally, Harry thought he could be a good friend. So he pushed back the undeserved bite of resentment at having the first thing he had ever both wanted and been able to buy for himself taken away. Hagrid was likely just following orders.

Other than that and an unpleasant meeting with a blond snob who reminded him of a much slimmer, more haughty Dudley, the journey to the Alley was one of the most wonderful experiences of his life.

—

Harry had a first year that was both wonderful and terrible at the same time. He was sorted into Gryffindor with his newest, first, and therefore best friend Ron. He made friends with a stuck-up rule-loving know-it-all named Hermione after a close call with a troll. He found himself coming to appreciate her friendship over the course of the year. Of course, despite gaining friends and learning magic, some very terrible things happened. He saw a unicorn killed, its blood drank by a shade. He saw Voldemort possessing his teacher. He killed a teacher.

That last was both wonderful and terrible. For the first time in his life, Harry had made a genuine difference. He had saved himself and his friends. He had shown true bravery. He had also realized he felt not the slightest drop of guilt or remorse for the death.

All he could think was that the idiot had deserved it for trying to kill those he cared about and bring back a terrorist who had killed his parents. Well, that, and that he really had loved the sensation of having the power to make a positive difference in both his own life and so many others.

Maybe he really did belong in Slytherin.

Harry briefly considered thanking Snape for saving his life, but discarded the idea. He was grateful to be alive, but he had a feeling that one of the other teachers or a seventh year would have cushioned his fall if he had slipped from his broom, and Snape had bullied, mocked, and intentionally messed up his grades all year. Basically, Harry hated him too much to forgive him over his actions, especially if they were only because he felt some bizarre need to repay a life debt to his long-dead father.

—

Harry had an easy time not killing his family that summer. For once, he did not have to restrain himself for fear of failure and death. He had far too much fun rubbing in the idea that he had magic and could use it on them if he so desired. Of course, he could not, but they did not have any way of knowing that.

If only he knew how the ministry monitored underage magic. He could get around the restriction if he knew, but reading gave him migranes. He rarely read more than was absolutely necessary to succeed in class. He had been curious enough to try to sneak into the restricted section to see what they banned students from learning, but that went nowhere. What idiot made books that screamed when they were picked up? That had to make it difficult to read.

Unfortunately, that happy summer ended when a house elf showed up and ruined everything. He could not even leave his room to retaliate. By the time Fred and George had shown up, he had been wondering if he was going to die before he had a chance to go back to Hogwarts.

—

Harry's second year was not nearly as wonderful as his first year. The charm of being at a magical school wore off. He still loved his abilities and learning to use them, but wished there was some other way to learn. Between his fickle fame, Lockheart, Slytherin's heir, and a bunch of immature idiots who thought a _language_ was evil, he had had a horrible year. It had been like being back in Private Drive, only with two friends (however uneasy) and without Dudley. Snape took the place of his Aunt and Uncle, so he was not even missing them. Then he had been down a friend after Hermione was petrified.

At the end of the year, his best friend's sister had almost died. He had joined in the rescue mission, slain the monster and its master, and rescued the girl. He was proud of his feat, and happy that Ginny had survived.

Getting some petty revenge on the elder Malfoy had been fun, and he had freed Dobby as a result. Harry had been happy for a while.

Then he had been returned to Private Drive. Why did the 'responsible adults' all think being abused was better than being spoiled? If anything, it seemed that most adults considered anything less than abuse as spoilt, and least where he was concerned. It was rather bizarre.

Thankfully, Harry was prepared. That show, seen so long ago, echoed in the back of his mind. He sought a way to finally kill his family. He could not use magic - it would be detected. He feared that if he used potions, Aurors might interfere and discover what had happened. After all, his damn fame would draw them like flies if he were to be orphaned a second time. Thus, he had two plans: Plan A was to mix bleach and ammonium (Hermione had been happy to talk about mystery novels), and Plan B was a kitchen knife he had stolen from Borgin and Burkes at the beginning of the year. That had been a fruitful mistake. The knife would fly out of the hands of anyone who dared touch it with bare skin and stab them to death.

In the end, Harry spent a week as the Dursley's slave before he conceded that there was no way that he could mix the two substances without risking his own death. He had been unable to convince Dudley that that was how cocaine was made. Pity.

That evening, he swapped Aunt Petunia's favorite knife with the stolen one shortly before she could begin cooking. Thankfully, she was cooking tonight because she did not trust him with food nearly as often after the coffee machine incident.

He was in the garden weeding when the screaming began. He smiled in success for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and pictured Hermione in Aunt Petunia's place. He felt that panic and fear and held it tight, waiting. Vernon's roars joined a few moments later, and he slowly rose from the bushes to peer _fearfully_ into the window at the wonderful sight of his tormentor's bloody corpses. It was all he could do not to smile, laugh, and puke.

They could never hurt him again.

The blood and dead bodies were gross and unnerving. He was a murderer and it was scary.

It was wonderful and freeing because now he would never have to see them again.

He felt sorry for Dudley. He might hate the boy almost as much as his Aunt and Uncle, but being orphaned was something he would not wish on anyone. Especially not when his parents had loved him so much. Thankfully, he was out beating up kids with Piers and would not witness their deaths. Harry had never thought he would be grateful for that.

After a moment, Harry realized that throwing up or screaming would probably be a good idea. It would make sure the neighbors now watching the house knew something was terribly wrong and that he was not involved. It would be his alibi.

He pretended to snap out of his daze and screamed. "Aunt Petunia! Uncle Vernon!" He ran nextdoor and began pounding on the door. "Help! Call the police! I think they're dead!" He yelled.

Finally, the door was yanked open and a neighbor came out.

"What's the racket, boy?" The slim man asked in disfavor.

"M-My Aunt… The police…" said Harry, beginning to feel a bit dizzy with fear. Was he going to be arrested? Was this a mistake? He teared up a bit at the idea.

The man scoffed, pushed him out of the way and strode over to the Dursley's house, muttering something about delinquent boys. Harry turned and noticed the nosy neighbor's children from across the street, who had been playing in the front, had crept across the street and were about to look in the windows.

The moment the girl got there, she screamed shrilly. Harry was torn between happy (she had bullied him before, so surely she deserved a bit of a scare), horrified (no one deserved to stumble across a scene like that at her age. Hermione would be traumatized.), and scared (was he going to be caught?). He shivered and sank down to the ground bonelessly.

Abruptly his eyes widened as the man looked in the window while the girl threw up. His mostly-innocent neighbor (guilty of nothing more than not paying attention to a scruffy kid) went for the door. The idiot might grab the knife! He dashed to the house, and straight into the kitchen. He was glad to find the man on the phone, not dying. He would never have forgiven himself if the man had died. His knees nearly gave out with relief.

He went to grab the knife with his sleeve, but was held back by the man.

"Stop, boy. That's a crime scene. Don't disturb it."

Harry jerked toward the knife. "But-"

"The police will be here soon. Don't look anymore. They're gone," the man said kindly, clearly not understanding the situation.

Harry sagged and turned away from the kindly man who thought him a victim, not a murderer, and the bodies of his victims on the floor. He felt a bit of guilt for the first time. His Aunt and Uncle had deserved to die, but accepting other man's kindness and pity seemed wrong when he was their killer.

Thankfully, it seemed that no-one was going to disturb the scene, and he knew cops always wore rubber gloves. He could just tell whoever came to get him that the knife had flown on its own. No one else would be hurt.

Harry shivered, feeling a bit dazed. It was done. His torment was finally at an end. He was no longer a slave at all, not even for a few months a year. He ignored the man, who was back on the phone, and stared out the window at the girl, who was still barfing and crying on Aunt Petunia's prized petunias. He felt another twinge of guilt. Funny how he could feel guilt for the girl's and man's reactions, but not his own family's death. For the first time, he wondered if he was a sociopath. He felt another twinge of guilt at traumatizing the girl, and decided that he was not a sociopath. Sociopaths did not feel guilt.

Still, he really would have done well in Slytherin. Had Tom Riddle killed anyone yet at his age? It seemed like everyone was always comparing them.

How was he supposed to act like he was grieving? Harry looked at the unnerving, bloody meat-puppets that used to be his Aunt and Uncle and stumbled out of the room. He did not want to be in that room anymore.

—

Aurors arrived about half an hour later, and Harry was finally able to warn someone that the kitchen knife had been flying. A sympathetic man, who seemed to think he was in shock or denial and had not quite realized his relatives were dead _teleported_ with him to the ministry.

Who would have guessed that wizards could do that? Why did they need to spend hours on a train to get to Hogwarts? He would have to ask Hermione later.

He soon found himself in an office somewhere with a badge saying "dead relatives" and an old woman sitting on the other side of a desk. He spent the next ten minutes relating his story to Amelia Bones, who seemed slightly suspicious at his lack of reaction. She asked him some pointed questions about where he was when they were killed. He also assured her he had not had a burst of accidental magic — he had just been weeding the garden.

Thankfully, Dumbledore and Fudge soon showed up and he was whisked away to Hogwarts. They both saw him as far too young and naive to be a suspect. Apparently, the idea of someone killing before they had even hit their mid-teens was beyond them.

He woke up in his bed in Hogwarts the next day, feeling oddly distant and detached. He was finally free. He was a murderer twice over. No… three times. Quirrell may have started as self-defense, but he could have let go before the man died. Did Riddle's memory count as murder? It was not really human, but neither were centaurs, and he would consider killing one of them murder.

Harry eventually shook off his odd mood and headed off to breakfast.

It was only as he got to the Great Hall that he realized his mistake. The school year was over and no-one was there. He sighed and muttered "Now what?" Then he grinned. He had missed meals before, and _no one was in the school!_ It was awesome. He turned and ran for the library. Hello forbidden section.

The first book Harry picked up was another screamer, though it shut up when he put it back. He found himself wondering if there was a spell to make it shut up. The next one was a potions book. They all looked far too complex for him to manage. Another was an advanced Transfiguration text. He flipped through it. Some of the topics did seem a bit questionable - why would anyone transfigure a person into a button? - but nothing seemed forbidden-section worthy. Harry started to feel a bit depressed. Was the forbidden section just high-level books that could be dangerous in the hands of a first year?

The fourth book was interesting. He found a curse that makes the target develop pimples in the shape of a word, the bat-bogey hex Ron had mentioned Ginny finding, and a number of other extremely annoying and petty spells. He could see why the book was forbidden, though. The fifth section had a curse that would drown a person by flooding their lungs with water and a curse that could turn a person inside out. It clearly did not differentiate between the Dark Arts and normal spells.

Come to think of it, what were the Dark Arts? His first year textbook said that the technical definition was 'offensive magic,' but he knew more than one definition for 'offensive', and people often talked about it as if there was something more to the story. He wondered who he could ask about it. Hermione was too much of a rule-lover to say anything more than "Dark Arts are bad", which was obvious given how they were treated, Ron could be touchy, and Dumbledore was Dumbledore. Asking him if he belonged in Slytherin was scary enough. What would the man think if he also began asking about the Dark Arts after killing his relatives?

Harry sighed and closed the book, taking note of the title. He wanted a copy for the bat-bogey hex and a few of the prank spells. If he could not buy one, he would come back with his cloak and some writing utensils. He was beginning to discover that he enjoyed getting a bit of revenge, and was tired of Ron and Hermione having a greater variety of spells than him. Ron had known that slug-spell (which had backfired, admittedly), and Hermione knew almost every spell in any book remotely close to her year-level. He returned the book to the dusty shelf.

The fifth book was on healing, surprisingly. He wondered why they would restrict knowledge as useful as that. Curious, he read the introduction, which included a warning that healing spells gone wrong could be deadly and to always have someone supervising when you practiced. That explained why it was restricted. He sighed.

"What are you looking at there, Harry?" he heard.

Harry jumped up with a yelp and whipped around. "Umm… Professor Dumbledore… Well, you see…" he said, looking up at the man's twinkling eyes. He immediately felt guilty for even considering lying. There was never a good reason to lie to Dumbledore. Well, aside from his murders.

"Taking a chance to explore new areas?" the man asked.

"I was just curious what sort of books were here."

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Oh? And what have you found?"

"Well, one of the books screamed really loudly, so I put it back. Why did anyone make a screaming book? Only a deaf person could read it," He said shaking his head. Dumbledore looked amused. "Those two are bloody advanced textbooks. I don't understand a thing! That one had that bat bogey hex Ginny wanted to learn, according to Ron, but it also had some really nasty spells. I think they were Dark Arts. Is the bat bogey hex dark?" he asked in concern.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No. It is just a very distracting hex. An excellent selection to deal with irritating brothers, though, I would imagine," he admitted in an amused, wry tone.

Harry nodded in relief. He had been afraid he might be getting Ginny into trouble for a moment. Harry held up the book he had been looking at. "This one says it's on healing magic. Is the reason it's here because of what it says in the warning?"

"Alas, I have read many books in my lifetime. I find I do not remember all of them. What does it say in the warning?" asked Dumbledore.

"Healing spells are dangerous and you can kill someone if you mess up," Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded serenely. "Yes, my boy, that is the case. I'm afraid most books in this section are here because they require a certain level of maturity to properly read and use. I would rather have some control over who reads them while in school. Imagine a first year trying to heal a friend's bloody nose and accidentally…" the man trailed off, looking into Harry's eyes seriously. "For that reason, please refrain from reading these without permission until you are of age."

Harry frowned and nodded. "Can I get a copy of the bit on the bat bogey hex for Ginny?" he asked. He still felt sorry for her. Spending a year possessed by Voldemort's younger self was even worse than what had happened to him in his first year. In fact, he was pretty sure it was worse than the bullying he faced last year. He hoped it would cheer her up.

Dumbledore smiled softly, eyes twinkling. "I see no problem with that. I'm sure your young friend would be happy to receive such a thoughtful present."

Harry smiled awkwardly back.

Dumbledore grew serious. "I'm afraid we have some serious matters to discuss, Harry," he said somberly. "Can you accompany me to my office?"

Harry's stomach dropped. ' _Does he know?'_ he wondered, dragging his eyes down to his feet and forcing himself not to think about it. Dumbledore always seemed like he could read his mind with a glance. He nodded nervously, and followed the man back to his office. The password to the gargoyle was "Lemon Drop" again, interestingly.

Dumbledore sat down at his desk. "Lemon Drop?" he asked, holding out his dish.

Harry shook his head nervously. "I haven't had breakfast yet. Candy before breakfast seems weird."

"Oh dear. I'm afraid that slipped my mind. Are you aware of how to get to the kitchens?"

"No, sir."

Dumbledore gave him directions to a picture and told him to tickle the pear. "In the meantime," he added, "Doxy!"

An elf appeared in his office. "Yes, headmaster, sirs?" the elf asked with a bow.

"Could you get some tea and biscuits for young Harry, here? I'm afraid he hasn't had a chance to eat breakfast," Dumbledore said calmly.

The elf bowed again. "Yes, sirs," he declared, and popped away.

A moment later, the elf returned with tea and biscuits. Harry immediately began eating as if he were starving. Actually, he _was_ starving.

After a few minutes, Dumbledore signed tiredly. "My boy, I am so sorry for your loss. I know you might not have gotten along, but family is family in the end."

Harry fought the urge to snort. If that were true, he would never have killed his Aunt and Uncle.

"Would you like to know what Aurors have found so far?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore's face and immediately felt guilty. He looked so sad for Harry, but Harry was _happy_ that they were out of his life for good. It made him wonder if something was wrong with him.

"Yes, sir," he said tightly.

"It appears that they were killed by a dark object; a knife cursed to slay all who touch it," Dumbledore said quietly. "There was nothing you could have done, my boy. They were dead the moment they touched the knife."

Harry nodded, biting back the urge to scream at the man to stop acting like he should be grieving for the Dursleys. His eyes teared up with the effort, to his utter humiliation.

"It would appear that the knife had somehow gotten mixed up with her kitchen knives. I have to ask; Have you seen anyone strange around lately? Has anyone broken in to your house?" Dumbledore inquired.

Harry shook his head honestly. "No, sir."

Dumbledore sighed. "Alas. Now, my boy, we come to something I am sure you do not want to discuss so soon after your Aunt and Uncle's deaths. I am afraid that you will need a new family to stay with. Rest assured, whoever you chose will never be a replacement—"

Meanwhile, Harry's brain caught up to the last sentence. A new family. "Yes!" he yelped happily.

"I'm sorry?" Dumbledore said in surprise and shock.

Harry looked up at him longingly. "Can I stay with Ron? Please?" he begged. He did his best imitation of Dudley's disgusting puppy-eyed routine.

Dumbledore looked a bit shocked and uneasy. "I'm sure you can visit your friend later this summer, Harry. We were talking about your new family."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I mean, Ron's always said I'm like a brother. Doesn't that make him family?"

"I'm afraid I can't burden their family with another child. They do not have the money to care for you and would not accept any financial aid from either of us, Harry." Dumbledore said. "Aren't you sad about your Aunt?"

Harry stared at him in shock. "No. She hates me!" Honestly, he could not understand why the man expected him to feel sad. He knew this already. Harry had begged to not return to that hellhole often enough.

Dumbledore gained a look of relief and realization. He ran his fingers through his beard. "I see that her death has not sunk in quite yet, my boy. You still speak of her in the present tense."

Harry scowled at the man's desk. He had killed her. Of course her death had sunk in! He was bloody happy she was finally out of his life for good. No more slaps, no more pans to the head, no more recitations of his worthlessness, no more gossiping about his criminal tendencies to the neighborhood. It was a bloody relief. That woman from the cop show so long ago had had the right idea. He was simply going to take a while to start using the proper tense. It was a habit.

After a moment of silence, Dumbledore said, "We need to decide where you will be staying for the summer from now on. I have been talking to some of my friends and have a few ideas. Unfortunately, my old friend Elphias Doge is too old. Emmeline Vance, a talented witch who fought with us in the last war, has offered to take you. Andromeda Tonks, whose aunt married your great-uncle, is also a possibility. She has a daughter seven years older than you, and is hesitant to take on another child, but sees you as something close to family, although not by blood. Hestia Jones also offered, although she is only twenty-two and I am hesitant to leave the raising of a child your age to one so young." Dumbledore peered at Harry over his glasses. "Would you like to meet any of them? I'm afraid you cannot stay here for more than another few days. Your status and an orphan a second time over has become known and Lucius Malfoy and his friends have begun to petition to be your guardians."

Harry froze in shock. _Malfoy_ wanted to adopt him? He doubted he would survive the first day in that house — and if he did, he would be so far under the influence of spells and potions that he would never make a decision on his own again. He would be little more than a puppet to that monster. "No! They can't! Not _Malfoy_!" He exclaimed.

Dumbledore nodded seriously. "That is why you must pick a new guardian. I fear that you will not have time to grieve. I am sorry."

Harry thought about it. ' _He said that one person was sort-of related to me. But… she doesn't want another child. It could end up like the Dursleys.'_ Harry shivered at the thought. He refused to let his first, and hopefully only, cold-blooded murders be for nothing. "Not that And-Andromeda person," he said firmly, but unsure of the name. "I don't want to be a burden to anyone else. Can I meet the others?"

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Certainly. I can arrange for them to visit tonight, if you wish?"

Harry nodded. Shortly, he was ushered out of the office and made his way to the kitchens, where he was shocked to discover a horde of house elves who were all too happy to make him some more food.

—

After a day of wandering the disturbingly empty castle, Dumbledore found Harry again and led him to the great hall, where he met two women and a man.

Hestia Jones proved to be a kind, gentle woman who saw past his fame and was happy to meet him. She brewed potions for one of the local apothecaries. Aside from the potions connection, Harry found that he liked her. He could see her becoming a friend of sorts, despite the age gap.

Emmeline Vance had come with her husband, Richard. It turns out that she was a talented women who developed new brooms for the Nimbus company and was known as an excellent dueler. Her husband tested brooms, and that was how they had met. She seemed nice enough. She had a son who had graduated Hogwarts and moved out two years before, and had offered to let Harry take his room.

After they had left, Harry discussed their visit with Dumbledore, and agreed to stay with the Vances. As they had said, letting him take an unused room for the summers would be no hardship, and the house felt empty without their son. He would have liked to stay with Hestia, but she would need to change her study into a bedroom and put up all sorts of wards. The Vances already had any protection they might need. Plus, their jobs were awesome.

—

The rest of the summer was happy for Harry. He got to know Emmeline and her husband, and was beginning to think of them as family of a sort. They were kind, and believed him when he eventually told them about his relative's treatment. They took him to a doctor, who was shocked to learn he had never gotten half his immunizations. He only had the ones that had been given to him before Voldemort had killed his parents. He even got a potion that should make him a bit taller! Apparently, he had lost some height from not eating enough as a child. Then came a big shock: there were medical procedures that could correct his eyes! His father had been allergic to one of the ingredients in a necessary potion, and had decided to wear glasses, but Harry did not share his allergy. They made an appointment for two weeks before school, and Harry knew that he would no longer need glasses by the time he returned to Hogwarts. It. Was. Awesome.

Richard, as it turned out, was a good cook. When Harry expressed interest, he was happy to give the boy a few tips. Emmeline had even let him use a few of the prototype brooms to fly at the local park! All in all, he was happy with his new home life.

What made him even happier was that, when his friends returned from their respective vacations, he was allowed to visit them during the day. With access to the floo network, he visited Ron and Hermione at least twice a week for the rest of the summer.

There were only two problems that summer. One was Sirius Black's escape. When Emmeline explained what the man did to his parents, Harry seriously considered adding a third cold-blooded murder to his list of crimes if he ever found the man. The second was Lockheart. He could hardly believe a ponce like that was set to be their defense professor. Thankfully, Richard had lent him his second-year defense book, telling Harry to study it with Hermione during the school year.

—

Sirius Black broke into school multiple times that year. Harry was glad that Emmeline had told him _why_ everyone thought the man was after him, because no one else had bothered to explain. It would have been a shock if the first time he had learned about it had been when he was spying on his professors in a bar.

On a side note, Quiddich was much easier without glasses. It was also easier to read; he no longer got migraines when he tried. He doubted he would ever read as much as Hermione, though.

Ironically, seeing better improved both his handwriting and his grades. No migraines meant he was more willing to do schoolwork, and he could see just how bad his writing really was. Emmeline and Richard nagged him about his grades, too, so he ended up putting in more effort than before.

Harry nearly tried that drowning-curse he vaguely remembered from the forbidden section when he finally met Sirius Black. He was glad that his uncertain memory led him to hesitate over the exact pronunciation, because the man turned out to be innocent. Hermione and he ended up going back in time to rescue themselves, which gave him a headache when he tried to understand the mechanics of their little adventure. If he had not been rescued, how could he have gone back in time to save himself? It made no sense!

He was very happy when Sirius offered to take him, but hesitant because he really did enjoy staying with Emmeline and Richard. He promised to think about it. That was probably why he was not absolutely crushed when Sirius had to go on the run. He felt guilty for it, but part of him was relieved not to have to make that choice.

—

The summer before fourth year was a lot of fun for Harry. He found himself beginning to really think of his adoptive parents as his parents. Sirius wrote as often as he could while being on the run, and he got to go flying with Ron at least once a week. Ron loved getting to try the prototype brooms.

The most embarrassing part of the summer was when Richard sat him down and gave him The Talk. He was sure he would never look at dating or girls the same way ever again.

The best and worst was the Quiddich Cup. Ron's family got tickets and invited him, but Death Eaters decided to have a bit of 'fun'. It was horrible. However, the game was awesome.

Maybe Harry did belong in Slytherin for it, but he found he was eternally grateful that he had managed to kill his Aunt and Uncle.

—

School started out wonderfully, but went downhill fast when his name came out of the Goblet. Ron betrayed him and no one but Hermione seemed to like him. Thankfully, Emmeline and Richard believed him. They sent a lot of helpful advice, including a list of the tasks. Apparently, they had connections in the ministry.

After about two weeks, Richard visited Harry at school and gave him some good advice: stop whinging. It would not make people believe him, and he was unlikely to change people's undeserved opinions without some proof. Harry did not want to hear that, but Richard also pointed out that many of the students likely did not _care_ all that much. He advised trying to talk to some of the people who did not attack him or actively avoid him. Even if they did not know what to think, they, at least, might be willing to be friends.

Harry took that advice and ended up with some new friends. As it turned out, Neville was a pretty decent bloke. He also got to know a few of the male Ravenclaws, who were not as opinionated as the Hufflepuffs or Slytherins, and a girl a year younger than him named Luna. He had found her shoes in an abandoned classroom and returned them with Anthony's help. She was odd, and a girl, which was awkward after The Talk, but she was obviously even more in need of a friend than Harry.

Aside from Neville and Luna, he would not call any of his new acquaintances close, but he did enjoy getting to know some new people. Ron got over whatever he had been going through after he nearly died facing a dragon. Harry supposed realizing you nearly lost a friend and might never have had the chance to make up with them would make a person get over trivial issues very quickly. He would probably feel the same.

When Skeeter tried to write bloody nonsense about him, his new family hired someone and put her on trial. She did not try again.

Unfortunately, Voldemort finally succeeded at the end of the tournament. He came back.

—

That summer was horrible. Voldemort was back, and Emmeline was often gone to "Order meetings" she could not tell him much about because of her oaths. She explained that they were mostly trying to figure out what Voldemort was up to and guarding something the man wanted in the Department of Mysteries. Harry's family had their wards updated and a Fidelus Charm put in place with Harry as the secret keeper.

Harry asked why his biological parents hadn't made one of the two of them a secret keeper, and Emmeline admitted sheepishly that they just had not considered that the one under the Fidelus could keep the secret until Bill Weasley brought it up in an Order meeting in early June. Apparently, there was a lot of swearing that day. Emmeline told him even Albus Dumbledore had said "Bloody hell, why didn't we think of that!" That made Harry laugh a bit.

It did not help his summer at all when he kept getting nightmares about Cedric's death and dreams about a weird corridor and a door. The newspapers trashed him and Dumbledore as well, and they could not even fight back because the papers were not technically lying — just putting their statement about Voldemort's return in the worst possible light. Richard had to remind him frequently that this would all blow over when Voldemort eventually revealed himself, which would take a year or two at the most. The idea of being maligned for that long made Harry furious.

After two straight weeks of nightmares, Richard got Harry a counsellor to get over Cedric's death, which did help. He also got past a surprising amount of issues springing from his childhood. He had never realized that he had been thinking of himself as lesser than other people until his therapist pointed out that he would do less to protect himself or make himself happy than he would a friend. It was not something that would go away any time soon, but at least he was aware of the problem.

The dreams and scar-headaches, combined with the occasional ability to feel Voldemort's emotions scared his new parents. They began asking around for someone who could take a look at his scar.

—

Fifth year was horrible. Harry was being tortured by a teacher for political reasons, and could not do anything about it. His new parents had complained to Dumbledore, the Ministry, and the Daily Prophet (in an attempt to at least get _something_ done), but it came to naught. Apparently, corporeal punishment was legal in the magical world, and there were no laws against abusive teachers.

When Umbridge attacked Hedwig and banned student organizations, Harry snapped. This was just like the Dursleys. Sometimes, murder was the best solution. If Umbrige was gone, the ministry would send another flunky, but he doubted they would manage to find anyone quite so foul. If they sent a Death Eater, he would simply kill them too. After all, they could not kill anyone if they were dead.

It might make the DA useless, but Umbridge had to go.

Harry was at school and could use magic. This would be easy for his Slytherin side.

That night, Harry slipped out of bed under his invisibility cloak. He slipped into Hogsmeade via Honeydukes. From there, he stole a touch of floo power, placed a sickle by the pot as an apology, and flooed to Diagon Alley. From there, he slipped into London, found a grocery store open 24-hours a day, and bought some bleach and windex (which contained ammonium). From there, he retraced his steps, hid his prize where no house elf could find it (his trunk), and returned to bed.

A week later, during his free period, he walked to Umbrige's office under his cloak, while carrying two large flasks.

When Umbridge was working on something, he cast a quick spell to transfigure some parchment into a bucket, and upended the flask of bleach into the bucket. Then, with a deep breath, he cast the bubblehead charm (thank you, second task) and used a spell to float the bucket into the room.

Harry checked that Umbridge was still too busy with paperwork to notice him. Then he slipped in and upended the contents of second flask into the bucket. It bubbled and boiled so fiercely, letting off gas, that Harry had to jump back to avoid the toxic substance. He then ran from the room and slammed the door, casting a locking charm behind him.

After about ten minutes with no one arriving, Harry checked for portraits and ghosts. None were watching. He then re-cast the bubblehead charm and opened the door. Gas poured out, and Harry cast the spell he had spent the week learning, vanishing the fumes. The still-bubbling substance in the bucket followed a moment later.

Harry slipped out of the bitch's office and headed back to the dorm room, where he removed his cloak and resumed trying to get his work done. Unfortunately, what he had just done kept him too distracted to actually achieve anything worthwhile.

In the end, he did not need to do his homework after all. They got the rest of the week off after Umbridge's body was found. Harry had to wonder how anyone thought that bitch's death could be traumatizing to anyone. Hermione was a bit mad that he failed to show any concern over a so-called professor's death, but Ron agreed with Harry.

Gryffindor celebrated with a party.

—

Thankfully, Umbridge's replacement was a pro-Fudge retired Auror. He taught the class well, although he was very quick to give Harry detention and very quick to spread propaganda. Someone from the WEA came to review the teachers, and Binns was fired. They tried to fire Trelawny and Snape as well, but Dumbledore somehow managed to prevent that. Harry thought it was a pity.

It turns out that history can be interesting with a living teacher.

After Harry had a vision and saved Arthur Weasley, Snape tried to teach Harry Occlumency. He failed badly. Harry begged his parents for help, and they hired a tutor to act in Snape's place. It took nearly three months, but Harry began to understand the basics of the art.

Thankfully, that meant that he knew the vision Voldemort sent him of Sirius being tortured was false. Harry was shaken anyway, and floo called the man from Dumbledore's office as soon as his test was over. It was a relief to see Sirius alive and well. He loved the man's stories.

—

After fifth year, Richard and Emmeline dragged Harry to a specialized doctor in Spain, who scanned his scar and got very, very angry.

It turned out that a piece of Voldemort's soul had somehow become lodged in his head. This had never happened to anything living, so any treatment would be very experimental, but Voldemort likely could not be defeated as long as it was there. Harry spent the first two months of his summer being prodded and poked at instead of having fun. Eventually, an experimental potion and ritual were able to isolate the soul piece into his scar by bolstering what remained of his mother's protection, and the scar was then removed with plastic surgery. Later, his forehead healed without a scar.

Harry would miss the scar, but was relieved the soul piece was gone and that no one would stare at his forehead anymore.

—

Harry's parents told Dumbledore and Sirius about what had been in his scar. Dumbledore seemed really upset for some reason, and apologized to Harry for reasons he would not explain.

Dumbledore had apparently found another object, a ring, that was similar to his scar and destroyed it, but was cursed in the process. His had was skeletal. Dumbledore explained Horcruxes to Harry and his parents, and said that he was certain the diary from second year had been one as well.

At least Harry got to spend the last week of the summer hanging out with Ron and Hermione.

—

Aside from the war, Sixth Year turned out to be Harry's most normal year so far. He worried about Malfoy being a Death Eater and the news reports, but did not have a possessed teacher, troll, dragon, tournament, basilisk, Heir of Slytherin, escaped convict, or madwoman messing with him.

Thanks to his new parents, he had the potions book already. He never found Snape's old book. Unfortunately, this also meant Slughorn never really took a shine to him.

Harry told Hermione about the Horcruxes despite Dumbledore's warnings, and she began researching. She ended up talking to the ghosts at school and found Ravenclaw's Diadem on her own. She was partially possessed, to Harry's horror, but she managed to get to Dumbledore, who destroyed the diadem.

Harry yelled at her for being reckless, which he had never expected from her, and hugged her tightly. He had nearly lost one of his four best friends. Neville and Ron did the same. Hermione and Luna really did not get along, so Luna did not bother with more than a brief visit in the hospital wing.

Harry also began dating Ginny. It was wonderful.

Unfortunately, the nearly-normal year ended with a bang. He and Dumbledore found the fake locket, and Dumbledore was killed.

—

That summer, Sirius made Mundungus Fletcher track down and destroy the locket, while Hermione tried to find Hufflepuff's cup. They would kill Voldemort's snake, which rarely left his side, when the fought him.

In the end, Mundungus admitted he sold the locket at Borgin and Burkes, who had not managed to sell it to a new owner yet. Sirius managed to buy it back, then returned to their new HQ (Harry's house) and destroyed it with fiendfyre.

Thankfully, having a home under Fidelus to stay in meant that research got done much more quickly than it would have been on a camping trip. Harry, Ron, and Hermione broke into Gringotts on August 15th.

Emmeline and Richard arrived home early the next day covered in blood. They were nearly killed at work when Death Eaters apparated in. Harry, Ron, and Hermione managed to patch them up and call Pomphrey for help. She arrived in time to save Harry's parents lives.

When he was sitting at their bedside the next day, Harry accidentally called Emmeline mom. She smiles at him and told him that she is proud to have a son as brave as him.

—

On September 1st, everything finally came to a head. The order led the attack on Hogwarts an hour before the students were due to arrive. Bill Weasley, Remus Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody and Hestia Jones all died in the invasion. Molly Weasley shocked everyone when she killed Bellatrix Lestrange.

Neville and Luna arrived on the train an hour into the battle and somehow cut off Nagini's head, to everyone's relief. Luna took down Antonin Dolohov and both of the Carrow twins in a duel that shook the world. However, the train brought reinforcements to the other side as well. Hermione lost an arm to a sneak attack from Pansy Parkinson. Ron killed the Slytherin and her boyfriend, Malfoy, in a berserk rage and carried his bleeding girlfriend to safety.

Eventually, Harry met Voldemort on the field of battle and defeated him in a very unusual manner. In a desperate attempt to find and kill his nemesis, he summoned his new broom and flew over the battle. Finally, with a grim smile, he dropped a mixture of ammonium and bleach on Voldemort. After all, it had worked before.

After the battle, he visited Hermione, who was insanely curious about what he had done and how he had come up with the idea.

"I figured he didn't know anything about chemical reactions," Harry told her. "After all, he never attended a muggle school after elementary. And I doubt he ever cleaned anything at the orphanage. So that is a power he knows not."

Hermione spluttered a bit. "I suppose that is true. How did you know about it then? Did Dumbledore give you the idea? Was it your mother?"

Harry laughed. "It was you, actually. Do you remember how we used to discuss mysteries back in first year?"

Hermione gaped at him.

"In a sense, the Dark Lord died because of your reading habits." ' _And my willingness to kill my relatives and Umbridge_ ' he added silently.

Ron started laughing a bit hysterically through the tears that had coated his face ever since he learned about Charlie. "That's my Hermione. She reads Dark Lords to death."

—

Three months later, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Ginny, and Harry all returned to Hogwarts for a delayed school year. Some people chose to wait for the next year, but they all felt that it was better to do something with their time. Emmeline and Richard encouraged his decision.

Harry was very happy to reconnect with Ginny. They ended up marrying a month after she graduated, and Harry finally moved out of his new parent's house. However, they stayed in touch regularly and invited Harry to every single family reunion and birthday.

He did have to murder anyone ever again.

—-

*** Harry avoids being arrested, even under Veratiserum, because he honestly says the knife is not his, that he did not buy it, and that he did not stab his relatives with the knife.


End file.
